


A Peaceful Session

by takaraikarin



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, Jpop, V6
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Member-Ai, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-08
Updated: 2013-04-08
Packaged: 2017-12-07 20:54:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/752974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takaraikarin/pseuds/takaraikarin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They never talked about any of it, yet it’s as real between them as if they’re a whole other sub-unit in V6</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Peaceful Session

**Title:** A Peaceful Session  
 **Author:** Takarai Karin  
 **Pairing:** Sakamoto Masayuki/Nagano Hiroshi [V6]  
 **Rating:** Hard R  
 **Warning:** Fluff and homoeroticism  
 **Disclaimer:** No Owning. Just Fangirling. No suing.

They never talked about any of it, yet it’s as real between them as if they’re a whole other sub-unit in V6. Another part of them that wasn’t _Tonisen_ or _Kamisen_. They were another part that only consisted of Sakamoto and himself, never excluding the rest of the member from them, but still having some things that were only known to the two involved.

Every time anybody –magazine reporters, TV interviewers- refer to the two of them as the ‘parents’ in V6 Nagano smiled that small content smile of his, and the three ‘kids’ –minus Okada, who never quite experience childhood in the truest sense of the word- grinned hugely like the brats that they were.

 

-

 

He still called him Sakamoto- _kun_ like he did since so many years a go when they first met, and he couldn’t remember if the leader had ever called him ‘Hiroshi’. It never mattered anyway.

It used to matter though that he should know baseball too, like the older man, and most of the times he’d pretend that he understood half of what Sakamoto was saying when he started blabbering about the sport. Months into the whole hubbub at the time, and he still couldn’t watch a match without falling asleep on Sakamoto’s shoulder, and he still couldn’t name one player from the Giants team that the man was so crazy about. It didn’t matter anymore now.

Now he complained every time the man came home to their shared apartment and –without doing much else first- flopped in front of the TV to catch a game. He’s still sighing in exasperation when he handed the man his afternoon tea, flopped onto the couch beside him, and settled himself against Sakamoto’s side while he raised an arm and put it around Nagano’s shoulder.

‘Quiet, Nagano-kun,’ Sakamoto shushed onto the top of his head, knowing that in ten minutes he’ll have the man quiet as a dead mouse, about a hundred times heavier than, and suspending the blood circulation to his right arm. But it still won’t matter.

It never did.

 

-

 

Sakamoto still yelped in panic whenever a type – _any_ type- of insects emerged in the kitchen or the bathroom and it’s still Nagano’s job to terminate them, even after so many years.

‘Ugh, you big baby,’

‘Shut up, I was scarred for life as a child,’

‘Exactly. A big baby.’

And there would be glittering amusement in Nagano’s eyes because the words were never spoken with venom, not even annoyance, and Sakamoto cautiously gave him a tight-lipped smile because those eyes could change its glints into a mischievous one at any second.

And that means instead of killing the huge –and terrifying to him no matter how people might convince him otherwise- ladybug he’d probably let it fly towards Sakamoto. He’ll then proceed to sulk for five minutes before letting Nagano persuade him back to the kitchen with big puppy eyes and the imminent danger of the younger man trying to prepare food by himself.

They ate their supper in their comfortably bug-free living room while smiling at each other, laughing secretly at their own in-jokes.

 

-

 

The first night they came home after V6’s 10th anniversary celebration, Sakamoto -slightly intoxicated from the wine and entirely too twitchy since the start of the day- pulled him into a scrambling heap of tangled limbs on top of their bed and started asking and telling things at the same time.

_‘Dyou remember that first show of ours? You see I was-’_

_‘You know when we went to Okinawa and Ken and Okada were bitching at each other? Yeah, that-_ ’

Nagano answered with a _yes, yes, of course,_ and _I know,_ and each time he did so his hold on Sakamoto’s body tightened, because the leader was shaking more and more strongly each time he spilled out the memory, each time the quiver in his voice begged Nagano to validate his recollection, telling him that yes, he remembered all correctly; and yes, that could’ve been handled more gracefully but he couldn’t have known; and yes of course this anniversary is exhilaratingly scary, but there’s still so much they could do, they’ll have their 11th anniversary, with luck maybe even their 21st…  
 _  
‘….How about when we first met? You remember that?’_

Yes.

And abruptly his shakings subsided when he looked down at Nagano’s eyes –piercing and tranquil and familiar, even on that day when they first met. The younger man smiled at him then, that small content smile of his that Sakamoto loved so much, and pulled him into a quick kiss. He was still half smiling when he pulled away, took Sakamoto’s hand in his and put it around his own body as he turned his back on him, successfully spooning the two bodies tight together, their closeness lulling Sakamoto into a restful sleep.

Later, much further into the night, Nagano woke up to the feel of Sakamoto’s mouth on the nape of his neck and hardness between his arsecheeks. He squirmed, the older man gasped, and –after making sure that he was indeed awake- he whispered a ‘happy anniversary’ against the man’s ear-shell, and Nagano could only giggle in return.

They lay there contentedly, because even the heat was familiar, and when Nagano started rubbing the curve of his buttocks against the upward bend of Sakamoto’s hard-on, it wasn’t much the cause of necessity as it was of clear want. They’re both still fully clothed, and while the coarseness of the jeans against his sensitized skin sounded deliciously tormenting for Sakamoto, it’s actually doing nothing for Nagano and his building lust at every gasp he drew out from the older man.

He let the rhythm of his rasping hips built, now that he’s painfully hard from the harsh breaths in his ear, from the tickle of Sakamoto’s damp hair-tips on his neck, feeling how the front of his pants was already moist from the pre-come of his still unattended shaft. When the older man reached around his waist to grab at his clothed cock, he all but screamed out loud.

Everything was frantic now. His arse on Sakamoto’s cock was rubbing mercilessly, and every _‘Ah, ah, ah,’_ he drew from the other man made the hands that were palming his erection went faster and faster.

The moment when Sakamoto came, his moaning stopped. He turned silent while his hips still grinded against Nagano’s and his hand turned jerky and almost forceful on the man’s erection as if he needed them to come like that, almost simultaneously. When he felt the older man’s teeth on his ear, his body gave up power and did exactly what he wanted it to. He came uncontrollably, _in his pants,_ his own _‘Ah, ah, ah’_ turning into _‘Ngh, ngh, ngghh,’_ until he was practically sobbing into the pillowcase he was biting on.

He managed a weak ‘happy anniversary to you too,’ before drifting back to sleep, and Sakamoto smiled, grunting in return against his sweaty shoulder.

They woke up to the sound of Sakamoto’s cell phone ringing the message-tone four times. When the man checked it, he laughed blithely and showed them to Nagano. Okada, Inohara, Miyake and Morita all sent their leader a belated ‘happy anniversary to us!’ messages –Inocchi jokingly so, and Ken with that adorably deep-rooted childlikeness of his.

They were _late_.

And between the well-wishes from their fans and the largely publicized celebrations by the media it was possible to state that they were the last to do so.

And Go didn’t actually write his own message, he forwarded Okada’s text.

And they were lazy enough to send them to Sakamoto’s, but not Nagano’s phone, just assuming that he’ll get them anyway.

But. They were the best thing he’d received since the first time he realized they’ve done this for so long, will they be able to continue their music for longer still?

The answer, of course, laid in the sincere way his band-members sent those messages –knowing full well their leader would be awake already- and in Sakamoto, who was looking at him with a lucid glow in his eyes.

A happy anniversary indeed.

 

-

 

A lot of things were unstated between them. Their feelings, even their side-job as the kids’ parents, none of that were ever put into words between them

But then their relationship didn’t really need words. And just like the other members didn’t need to confer beforehand to conclude that their ‘parents’ are- well- _together_ , they didn’t need them as well. The two of them together were above that.

And so one night almost four years a go instead of coming home to his own house Nagano went to Sakamoto’s apartment, and after a week he practically lived there, and that had been that. The details were unimportant. They rarely ever do.

What mattered was that until now Nagano’s still in charge of the insect-killings and Sakamoto still does most of the cooking, since none of them were fond of food-poisonings. And they still fight over the TV that mostly ended up in them as a tangling, giggling mass on the carpet, the TV all forgotten.

What mattered was that it still felt so good to come home not alone. And it wasn’t even about the older man’s _‘Okaeri’_. It was the arms wrapping securely around him, the familiar sensation of everything that could caress Nagano into a peaceful sleep.

 

 

**Stop.**  



End file.
